“Don’t get lost,” Max called to her, his voice rising over the rumble of the boat’s motor.
Harper Aldworth waved farewell to her friend as he shoved the boat free of its moorings. “Not a chance,” she exclaimed, steering his twenty-six-foot cabin cruiser toward the channel and the Gulf of Mexico.
“And call me when you get there,” he said, showing off his handsome smile. He didn’t seem at all nervous about her borrowing his boat, and she was grateful for it.
“Will do!”
Harper idled through the inland channel, taking in all the big, glitzy houses and manicured lawns along the way. She’d never aspired to that sort of glamorous, over-the-top lifestyle, the fame or fakeness. She’d had enough of it growing up on an elite island near Fort Walton Beach in the Florida Panhandle. Her dad worked for a prestigious law firm based out of Montgomery, and her mom was a trophy wife. They thought more of the smile on her face than the brain in her head. Even her high school had been like a clone of High School Musical, and much to her mother’s dismay, Harper had been the outsider geek.
Then there was college, which her mom thought was all about having a social life and finding a husband instead of getting a real education. But Harper loved math and science—especially biology—and figuring out how things worked. Needless to say she’d been a huge disappointment to her mom when she’d graduated.
Yet she worked hard and developed a career in which she made a difference. The genetic-engineering breakthrough she and her team had made would change the lives of multiple sclerosis patients for the better, and hopefully cure the awful disease eventually. Perhaps it would even aid science in the cancer fight. She hoped so. She was very grateful for the opportunity to be part of it all, but lately things had turned dark, with everybody and his brother fighting to lay claim to the results.
Now she’d bought herself a peaceful few days on the water away from everyone and everything. A few days island-hopping would be just the ticket. Her first stop would be Cayo Costa, a Florida state park seventy-three miles south of Bradenton that was only accessible by boat or ferry and known for its quaint cabins and quiet beaches.
When the boat motored into the Gulf, she opened the throttle, bringing the Sundancer up onto a plane. The wind tore through her hair, whipping strands from her ponytail. It felt so good, freeing and exhilarating. No job, no boss, no men. No being compared to other people. Nothing but blue sky and blue water.
The boat took a couple of rogue swells, causing the hull to slam hard against the waves. She backed down the throttle, slowing the boat to a cruising speed. It would take about three hours to get to where she was going.
Halfway through the ride, Harper looked around for a spot to break for lunch. Not far off, a pod of dolphins made themselves known, and she slowed and cut the motor. It was the perfect place to just sit and eat and breathe.
Silence permeated the air. Only the slap and slosh of the water drifted on the warm breeze. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the salty air. There wasn’t a boat in sight, and only the tiniest thread of land could be seen to the east.
She went below deck to the cabin and dug around inside the cooler she’d packed. She retrieved her PB&J sandwich and an apple. With a toss and catch of the fruit, she headed back topside and took a seat at the back of the boat.
The dolphins were circling, making passes, getting curious. As she unwrapped her lunch, she watched the animals ease closer. Their curiosity was evident, especially one bold gal who broke from the group.
For some reason Harper identified with her. Actually, she didn’t know its gender, but she’d dubbed it female. The mammal repeatedly lifted its snout as if trying to communicate something. Harper’s girlfriends Laura and Abby back home in Baja would have appreciated this encounter. They occasionally took boating excursions together to whale watch.
She grabbed her cell phone from the console and snapped a selfie with the dolphins nearby in the background. She smiled as she typed her friends a message, only realizing she had no service when she hit “send.”
Guess I’ll have to send them later.
She finished her lunch and stood, wiping the crumbs from her shorts. It was time to move along. Besides, the sun was getting hot without the breeze she’d had while underway.
At the steering wheel, she turned the key to start the engine. It remained silent and still. Tipping her head forward, she confirmed that the shift lever was in neutral. The throttle was at the proper idle position, too.
She turned the key and tried again.
Nothing.
Just great…
She moved to the rear of the boat and lifted the engine hatch to inspect for any obvious problems—loose wiring or anything else she could think of, though she admittedly wasn’t a mechanic.
Everything seemed to be in order. But obviously appearances were faulty.
Damn. There went her peaceful day.
She reached for the VHF radio and flipped the power switch.
Nada.
That didn’t work, either? What the heck? She hadn’t noticed when that stopped working. Shucks.
With a sharp exhale of breath, she sat back and squinted at the shoreline. She could barely make it out. Well, hopefully she’d drift inland until she either picked up cell service or Max realized she hadn’t called as they’d agreed and came looking for her.
She twisted off the cap on her water bottle, preparing herself for a long wait. At least the cabin provided everything she needed to hold out for good while: a sink with water, facilities, living and bedroom accommodations. Not a dire situation yet. The boat should have also been equipped with an emergency kit, including flares. She reached over and began lifting the seat cushions to check the storage compartments. Beneath the bench seat in back she found a bright-orange hard case.
When she opened it, she found a flare gun and cartridges, per Coast Guard regulations. She had to give Max credit; he had a top-of-the-line kit. She loaded the gun and fired it into the air, watching the trail of smoke shoot up and finish with a bright-red burst. She wondered, though, if anyone would actually see it during the daylight. She counted the flares in the case. Three cartridges and six handheld flares. That was it.
Although she wasn’t all that worried. Max would come to her rescue. She was sure of it.
Something moved off the side of the boat then, and she peered over to find the dolphins still keeping her company. She sighed and slipped off her shirt before stretching a towel over the deck. Might as well work on her tan.
* * *
Sully ignored the text from his friend and manager, Paul Grayson, and dropped his phone back into his pocket. He’d respond later. Determined to let go of business while on vacation, he gripped the steering wheel, resisting the urge to retrieve his cell. Expanding his lungs, he drew in a deep breath of salt-tinged air.
It was a gorgeous day for sailing. Perfect, in fact. Sully adjusted the sail to pick up speed. He smiled. God, he loved it even more when she rode the wind. As he glanced at the billowing sail, something caught his eye, a flash of light. A flare? He squinted. He could just make out a boat on the horizon. Had the signal come from there?
His gaze swept the water in every direction. Not another boat to be seen. That was an advantage of going out midweek. Only the fishing professionals were out, and they traveled a lot farther into the Gulf. A signal flare meant trouble for someone, though, so he adjusted his course. It wouldn’t do to ignore the distress signal and discover later that someone had been in dire straits.
Twenty minutes later he was close enough to the boat to see that there wasn’t anyone on deck. Perhaps they were in the cabin, staying out of the blazing sun.
“Hello?” he called. A long silence followed. He hung a couple of bumpers in order to get closer and keep the boats from colliding.
“Oh thank goodness,” a feminine voice said as a shadow approached. “I’m so glad you stopped.”
She stepped into view, the late-afternoon sun shining from behind her. She was wearing a visor that shaded her face, a button-down shirt, open in the front, hung loosely on her frame, revealing a skimpy bathing suit. “I saw a flare. Was it yours?”
“Yes. I turned the motor off while I had lunch, and then it wouldn’t start again. Do you mind taking a look for me?”
“Sure.” Sully tipped the brim of his Los Angeles Rams ball cap and handed her a line to tie up his boat. “I don’t know if I can do anything, but I’ll see,” he said as he climbed aboard.
“That would be great.”
He tried to start the engine. There was nothing but a click when he twisted the key. “I’m not an expert, but it seems to me it’s either a battery or electrical issue.” He walked over to the battery and checked the connections, ensuring they were good to go. Then he tried the ignition again, producing the same results. He shrugged. “I don’t think this is something we can fix out here.”
She stared at the silent engine. “Well, what are my options?” She paused. She ripped her visor from her head and ran her fingers through her hair, tossing her head sideways and looking up again to meet his eyes. “Do you have a radio that you could call me a tow?”
Shock washed over him as he got his first good look at her without the hat shadowing her face. Her familiar face.
“Sharper Harper?” he asked.
Her chin lifted abruptly, and she glared at him, her expression shifting to one of puzzlement. She straightened, her demeanor changing, tensing, as she took a step backward and studied him. “Sully McGlamery?” Her voice held the contentious bite of long-standing hurt.
He hesitated, taking her in with fresh eyes. He hadn’t seen her since they’d graduated high school. Back then she’d sported a short, wispy hairstyle, braces, and large-rimmed glasses. He did a quick assessment, glancing down to her toes, then back to her face. Her sun-kissed chestnut hair was long and draped over one shoulder, her body curvy in all the right places, and his gaze lingered a second or two over the cleavage visible through the opening of her shirt. This was not the geeky girl he remembered. Not to mention that without the glasses and braces, she was absolutely stunning, even if she seemed somewhat withdrawn.
“Wait. As I recall, your given name is Sullivan. Correct?”
“Yep, but I’m known as Sully,” he said, smiling wide now. “I’m staying at a resort in Barefoot Bay. I rented the sailboat there. I’ll call them to see if someone can tow you to Mimosa Marina.”
In the same quick-thinking manner he remembered her having, she didn’t hesitate. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”
He nodded, amused. “I can’t believe we ran into each other like this.”
“I know. There must be some formula for how that happens. A few months ago when I was driving to see my best friend in Phoenix, I stopped overnight in a hotel, and low and behold my friend’s sister was staying in the same hotel. It was so bizarre. And last week, in the Atlanta airport, I ran into Simon Black. You remember him, don’t you? He was in chorus with us.” She shook her head. “You make the second person I’ve bumped into from high school in three months. Bizarre.”
“I know. But it happens, huh?” He stepped up and over onto the aft of his sailboat. “Let me see if I can get hold of someone to rescue you. I’ll be right back.” When he reached the radio, he looked up the marina’s contact information on the rental card. He made the call quickly, and sure enough, Mimosa Marina was a BoatUS representative, and they would have someone there shortly.
On his way back to her, he grabbed a couple of bottles of water. “Want one?” he asked as he moved back onto her boat and took a seat across from her beneath the canopy top.
“Sure. Thanks.” She took the bottle and twisted off the cap, a smile of appreciation lighting her face.
A stir of attraction swirled through him, the kind he hadn’t allowed himself to explore in what felt like forever. As a celebrity, women chased after him wherever he went, and he’d long ago grown tired of the gold diggers and teenyboppers. Real relationships were nearly impossible to come by.
“It will take them about an hour to get here,” he said as he tried not to notice some of the little things about her that were different. Her nails were manicured—not fancy, but neat with a coat of pale-pink polish. And her toes matched. He didn’t think Harper cared about those kinds of things. Her nose was forever buried in books when they’d been in high school. Except when she’d used a book to hit him over the head once. He grinned. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what he’d said to aggravate her.
“If they’re on their way, you don’t have to wait. I hate to keep you from your sailing,” she said without much conviction.
“My momma raised me to lend a hand to a lady in distress,” he teased. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
* * *
Harper downed a quarter of her water in one gulp to keep from saying anything stupid, like that she wasn’t in distress…yet. She had food and water and shelter, and she was pretty certain Max would have sent the cavalry looking for her when he realized she was missing. Plus, she could see land, which meant help wasn’t that far away. And she knew all that was ridiculous. There was just something about Sully McGlamery that brought out the instinct to defy him. It wasn’t rational; it was just there.
“Then I’m thankful to your momma. And to you,” she said, looking into his deep-blue eyes, which were lined with thick, long lashes. Lashes too pretty to belong to a man.
He gave a tight nod. “No problem.”
If the universe demanded that someone be her hero today, why did it have to be him? Anyone but him would’ve sufficed. She groaned inwardly.
In high school, she’d had a love-hate thing when it came to him. He was handsome and popular. All the girls made eyes at him. And what did she do? She’d whacked him over the head with a book! Granted, he deserved it for embarrassing her in front of the entire class, but still.
But she wasn’t the same person now, she reminded herself. She’d put that episode—and that time of her life—behind her.
“So what have you been up to?” he asked, then downed a long swig of his water.
Her gaze took in the play of his jaw and the way his throat worked as he swallowed. She shifted in her seat a little. “Well, I live in Baja California, Mexico.”
“Really? That sounds exotic.”
“I’m a medical-research scientist.”
“Oh.”
She didn’t miss the lift of his brow, but he followed up quickly with, “I’m not surprised. In what specialty?”
“Genetic, genomics, and bioinformatics.”
“Where’d you study?”
“Harvard. In the end I’m not sure it was the best choice, but at the time it was ranked the highest in my specialty.”
He nodded. “How do you like living in Baja?”
“I love it. I live near the Rosarito area. It’s beautiful there. On the weekends some friends and I like to go parasailing along the Pacific cliffs. Then we lunch at a local restaurant, Restaurante. Absolutely yummy food! On calm days, we go boating. There’s always something to do.”
He angled his head back and glanced at her through narrowed eyes. “Parasailing? Really?”
She laughed. “You didn’t know I had an adventurous streak, did you?”
“No. Sounds like a great place to live, though. I’ve never thought of living outside the States. Why Mexico?”
“Baja isn’t far from the border. I chose that company due to the research they do and their regulations are more appealing than in the United States. My team and I recently developed a procedure that shows definite promise in curing MS.”
“That’s fantastic. I always thought you’d make some kind of contribution to the world.”
“Hmm, I never—” The sound of a motorboat approaching had them both turning to look. She was about to say she’d never figured he’d given her a second thought.
Probably for the best.
They both stood as the towing service pulled up alongside the Sundancer.
A strong breeze had developed and the waves kicked up into rolling swells. Harper lost her balance, stumbling, and Sully caught her against his chest. She quickly pulled back, forcing her feet to stand still. She cleared her throat and tilted her head toward the motorboat.
Sully looked over at the driver. “Hey,” he called over the sound of the engine. “Harper, this is Robert from Mimosa Marina. I’ve gotten to know him over the four or so years I’ve been renting sailboats there.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she shouted. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
Sully grabbed the rope Robert tossed him and loosely tied the boats together while Robert came aboard. They quickly showed Robert the problem with the Sundancer.
“Yeah,” Robert said, “It seems to be something electrical. There’s a mechanic back at the marina who can take a look at it.”
Harper nodded.
“How about riding back with me?” Sully asked her. “Robert, you can check her boat into the shop without her, right?”
The man shrugged. “Sure.”
Harper worried her lip as she thought. She wouldn’t mind taking the sailboat, and even though Sully sometimes made her uncomfortable, he was familiar compared to total strangers.
“Okay,” she said. “I guess we can follow up with the mechanic when we arrive.” She snatched her tote bag with her wallet and personal things from where she’d stowed it next to the seat and dropped her cell phone inside.
Sully smiled, offering his hand to guide her onto his sailboat while Robert and his assistant readied the Sundancer to be towed. She grabbed a seat on a bench on the port side and watched Sully put up the sails. He took the wheel and guided the boat to catch the wind. She had to admit he looked quite handsome at the helm.
Her heart did a silly double-thumping thing in her chest. No. Surely, it wasn’t high school all over again…